Page 67 of O'Mega's Revenge
“I’m yours. All yours.”
“I’m yours. All yours,” I echoed, holding her eyes as I said it.
The pulsing of her orgasm started faintly but grew in intensity. I let go of her gaze and concentrated on feeling her around me. The sweat on my brow found a path to trickle down into my hairline, and I let go of the fight I was losing. Soon I was pulsing right along with her, coming into her, and riding that floating edge of bliss and mindless floating.
“You didn’t move.”
“I tried.”
“I know.” She leaned over and kissed me. The sweetest kisses were hers just after sex. In all my life, I never found better.
“Ice says we should get married.”
“We need a house more than a piece of paper.”
Hum. That could be arranged. “I know a few guys in the construction business.”
“Sprout? You’re going to make Sprout build our house?”
“He’s not that bad.”
She shook her head. “He’s got contracts booked through next year. We’ll never get it done. What about a prefab?”
That could be arranged, too. “You in a hurry?”
“Yes. Single level, compact, open floor plan, a pool…” She thought about her demands a moment longer. “And a big deck for grilling.”
While she was listing particulars, I added my own. “Bike parking, and a shed. No garage.”
Her nod of agreement was encouraging. “Just us, though. I don’t want wild parties like Danielle has to put up with.”
“Babe, Destroyers. Bikers don’t do quiet parties.”
She sighed. “You’re right. The Handmaidens get crazy, too. Can we elope? Maybe get an RV and ditch them both?”
It was my turn to shake my head. “Package deal. Two bikes, two clubs.” I brushed a lock of hair that stuck to her face, so I could admire her skin.
She groaned and looked at the door. “At least they’re useful.”
“Can honestly say, I’ve never fucked in a hospital before.”
“Me neither.”
I caught her as she lost her shit on my shoulder. Her giggles were contagious. Of all the shit we went through to get here, knowing she was finally free from her demons did it for me. Seeing the joy come out, despite her sadness. That was important. It proved she was moving on, and, best of all, taking me with her.
Ice was right. Quick and the others were right. I had this. Those doubts that crept up on me were a temporary glitch. They were my body’s way of processing. It might take time, but I’d adjust. We’d adjust. Meghan and I were finding a new baseline, one that held promise.
Nothing would stop my wild woman from grabbing onto life and living it the way she was meant to. Free.
If I was right behind her, or at her side, she was still free. Of all the promises I made, not to hurt her, not to leave her, not to fucking die, they weren’t nearly as lasting or as important as the one I gave her when I dropped her off on Margaret Wheade’s bus. I told her that she was free.
Then she sought me out, testing me each time she walked away without any guarantees. Until finally, we couldn’t walk away anymore. It took me a long time to figure out that love wasn’t a trap. Whatever the future brought, we were going to be free, together.
Four weeks later, the swelling was down, and they’d saved the knee. I had a temporary prosthetic while I waited for the rest of the leg to build up strength and heal.
I was mobile, not fast, but at least useful.
Jackson called me down to the club. I drove in, still not trusting my balance on the bike. It didn’t matter what kind of mods Ice slapped on it, I needed to heal fully first. Doctor’s orders.
